


Satan's Child

by uaigneach



Series: Karma's Life After The Assassination Classroom [1]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist, Assassination Classroom, Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Child Abuse, Depressed Akabane Karma, Gen, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Prequel, Verbal Abuse, forgotten portrait ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaigneach/pseuds/uaigneach
Summary: Before he was Akabane Karma, he was Okumura Rin. And before he was strong, he'd been beaten down.[knowledge of Ib and Ao No Exorcist are unnecessary as they are trivial tie-ins to the series I am writing]





	Satan's Child

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if there are contradicting facts. I haven't reread my first story in a while, but I will be when I finish the Aftermath, so I'll correct what I find.  
> Someone had just requested that I write a sort of prequel involving Karma's adoptive parents and while I can honestly say that I doubt that this is accurate (SORRY IF I OFFENDED ANYONE) I did my best to capture small snippets of what built the character that I am writing.

It was his first year of school and Rin was already getting into trouble. He’d admit that he wasn’t the easiest kid to handle, but he was 6 years old. All kids his age were annoying pieces of shit. Of that Rin was very aware. It was why he got into so many fights at school. The other kids didn’t like him because he had bright red hair and ‘freaky’ eyes. They started the fights! He just escalated. It wasn’t his fault that they were so outclassed. He was a fucking badass 6 year old okay?

His twin brother didn’t seem to agree though. Yukio was a quiet nerd and of course all the adults just _loved_ him. They were always asking why Rin couldn’t be more like Yukio and where Father Fujimoto went wrong with raising him. Rin thinks that he is just fine. It was the other kids that needed to be taught to handle themselves.

They started it! Rin finished it in a way so that it wouldn’t happen again for at least 6-8 weeks. It was purely self-defense, okay?

But anyways, today had been just like any other day. People had bullied him because of his eyes, and he’d broken a few bones and caused 3 separate tantrums. The teachers had been pissed. He’d been sent home early, and he’d proceeded to fill out his homework and finished both his and Yukio’s chores. Never say that he wasn’t responsible. Everything was going great so far, but then Father Fujimoto returned to the monastery along with Yukio. He sent Yukio to his room and pulled Rin to the side. “Rin, we need to talk about how you’ve been acting lately. Picking fights with other students is not okay.” Now Rin was an intelligent child, and he knew how to argue okay?

“I did not pick any fights! They were the ones who decided to attack me because of my hair and eye colour. Are you saying that I _asked_ to be beat up because of genetics?” he frowned, really confused. Father Fujimoto knew why Rin got in trouble. He said he’d understood.

“I’m not saying that they were right to bully you because of how you look – and since when d you know about genetics? Never mind, that’s not the issue – but it’s no excuse for you t start picking fights with them.” The priest scolded. “We’ve had this conversation too many times Rin.”

Um no? Father Fujimoto had only told him to stop having fistfights only a handful of times. “What do you mean? What’s happening?” the look on Father Fujimoto’s face wasn’t giving him any good feelings. Something was telling him that there was something wrong here. The priest looked guilty.

He leaned forwards gripping his shoulder in what was probably supposed t be reassuring but just served to put Rin more on edge. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to help you. Maybe you’ll do better somewhere else. Come n. Let’s go pack your thinks.” And then he gently began to steer Rin towards his room. Together they packed Rin’s clothes and a couple keepsakes (a small rubber ball, a picture of Yukio and him, and a rosary).

Rin didn’t put up too much of a fight, sensing that it would only make this worse. He didn’t understand what was going on. So far all he’s said is that he basically doesn’t know how to handle him so he was taking him somewhere else? What…

 

Father Fujimoto lead him to the car and proceeded to drive him out of the city. “Where are we going?” he asked softly. Father Fujimoto just ignored him. He kept silent for the remainder of the drive. They stopped in front of a small building that looked almost like an apartment building.

“We’re here.” Father Fujimoto pointlessly announced. He took Rin by the hand and lead him to the front door. He knocked and smiled brightly at the small woman who opened the door. She was young, maybe in college – so early 20s. Even if his estimate was incorrect, she was still decades younger than Father Fujimoto. Even younger than any other workers at the monastery.

“I really appreciate what you guys are doing for me. Now this is Rin. The troubled boy I was telling you about?” Father Fujimoto’s voice said, breaking Rin out from his thoughts. The priest knelt down and placed his hands on Rin’s shoulders. “Now you’re going to be staying here with these nice people from now on okay? They’ll keep you safe until you can find a family.”

Rin didn’t understand. Didn’t he already have a family? “But… what about Yukio?”

“You don’t need to worry about Yukio anymore. I’ll keep him safe.” And then he was standing up and walking away. Rin watched as the car drove off, long after it actually disappeared from view. He didn’t know what to do now. He was just… lost.

The kind lady from the orphanage took him gently by the hand and lead him inside. “I’m sorry that you were left like that. Did your parents die recently?” the woman said gently but tactlessly.

Rin looked up at her, confusion flooding his large gold eyes. “No. We never knew our mom – she died giving birth to us – and my dad was apparently a bad man. Father Fujimoto said that he hurt a lot of people and that we’d be lucky to never meet him.” He told her in that way that kids do with information they can’t fully understand. He might get it theoretically, but emotionally he’d never dealt with the absence of his parents. It had never bothered him before. Why should it now?

“We?” the lady prompted, actually sounding curious instead of placating.

He nodded, clutching the strap of his ratty backpack tightly. “Uh huh. My twin brother Yukio. He’s back with Father Fujimoto. Didn’t you hear him?” And then the lady’s face got real pinched and uncomfortable as she looked down at him with pity and the dawning realization that Father Fujimoto had given her only one of the two siblings he’d had in his charge.

“Oh honey. I’m sorry about that.” She said sadly. Rin just brushed it off.

“Don’t worry about it ma’am. Yukio never really liked me anyways. And the adults could never handle me. My teachers claim that I’m the devil’s child. They didn’t like how I looked. Not even Father Fujimoto.” She didn’t dignify that with a response.

How is one supposed to respond to that anyways?

Instead, she lead him into a larger room where a group of children were playing under the watchful eye of two middle aged women. None of them appeared to be younger than Rin, but he was small for his age – another thing he’d been bullied for. As soon as he walked into the room, the children stopped playing in order to stare at him.

He knows that he looks different, but some of these kids look like they’re older (even in their teens!) and they should know that it sucks to be stared at. Although, they al looked terribly plain and boring. He wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason these kids were bullied was because they were either orphans or stupid.

(At this point in time, Rin still didn’t think that being smart was something people were bullied for. He was of the opinion that if you were dumb, you were worthless. What he didn’t get, was that bullies hated smart kids because bullies were most often the dumbest of the dumb. He didn’t like dumb people.)

“Alright children! We have someone new joining us for the next bit.” The woman said brightly, smiling at the kids. Then she turned to him. “My name is Miss Hanasaki, you may call me Miss Hana, or Miss H. Now I give every child here a chance to remake themselves and leave what ever parts of their past they want to leave behind. We do this by letting you choose your name. Please introduce yourself!”

Wow. So she just sprung that on him. And here was his chance to get rid of that girly name, Rin. But it was also a chance for him to be a major loser with his name. Then again… he already looked (and acted) like a freak, so why not go the full mile. “Call me Karma. Just Karma.” Get rid of the last name; the family name. Father Fujimoto sent him here to get a new family, so he doesn’t need to hold onto Yukio and the parents he never knew.

One of the older kids raised an eyebrow at his choice in name, but Ri- Karma thought that it fit him and his look. Vengeance is a thing he greatly enjoys and just imaging all of the puns!

He had a feeling that he was going to be a badass when he grew up.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Karma!” Ms. Hana said cheerfully. “Kids? Please introduce yourselves.” Karma turned to stare at the other kids. Some looked apprehensive… and others looked… condescending. Great…

The youngest kid (still looking to be at least 7) moved up to stand in front of him and stuck his hand out in front of him. “Hi newbie! My name’s Skip. Got no last name either. It’s nice to meet ya!” Karma raised an eyebrow at the name – it wasn’t much better than his own chosen one – but he moved to shake the kid’s hand anyways. Although, to be fair, he did do his best to crush the other kid’s hand.

The other kids took this as a sign to approach. He was flooded with introductions and faces that he didn’t care about. The most notable people being a set of twins named Evan and Ivan who had been adopted by American immigrants who later were killed in a car accident. The twins were 10 now.

Most of the older kids (the eldest being 13 – more than twice his own age!) seemed indifferent to his presence, but the kids stared openly. He sometimes heard them mumbling to each other abut how he looked weird. How being Japanese and having _natural_ blood red hair was inconceivable. They speculated that he was part foreign due to his eyes – which no human should have? He just shrugged and told them it was a birth defect and that his brother looked normal.

For all he knew, his sire _had_ been foreign. It didn’t really make that much of a difference to him anyways. He just didn’t see the point in worrying about it. He was Japanese, and from what little he remembered of Yukio–

(After essentially being abandoned by his previous family, he had sort of lost any sense of affection for his twin. He hadn’t been nice to Karma, and he’d already ditched both of his names. So he burned the photo he had and then effectively ‘deleted’ his memories so that he won’t have t deal with all of those emotions. He already practically screams trust issues.)

–he hadn’t looked foreign at all. Although, it was only Father Fujimoto’s word that told them they were blood siblings. No one had done blood tests. He might not really be an Okumura in lineage.

But did he really care? That part of his life is over. He can only move forward now.

Like a shark, it’s move on or die.

 

* * *

 

He spent a grand total of 7 months at the orphanage. In that time, all the other kids had rotated out. The last one from the original group of kids he’d met had been adopted 2 months before. Even some of the newer kids had been adopted. Karma was rejected each time. No one wanted the demon child.

Because that’s what they called him. He glared too much and had too many logical opinions for a 6 year old. He had insisted upon self-study and then proceeded to excel way past what the orphanage workers expected.

He didn’t exactly play well with the other children, so the workers supported his decision to stay away from the ‘normal’ children. Adults just didn’t get it. But that was… well not _okay_ but okay? Karma had stopped paying attention. He just knew that he wasn’t going to be adopted anytime son. What kid of parent would want a kid like him?

Well, 7 months after he was abandoned by the priest, he met the kind of people who wanted damaged gods..

 

It happens like this:

He had been sitting at the table just minding his own business when Ms Hana brought in 2 adults. They didn’t look like any of the other hopeful parents-to-be’s, and that was what set Karma off. Something was different about them, and he didn’t yet know if it was a good or a bad different. The problems of having no worldly experiences. They were both neat business people, the man in a full 3 piece suit and the woman in a pinstriped pencil skirt and blouse. They were both immaculate in appearance and wore identical stiff facial expressions.

“He’s really a smart child! A sad one too, but I’m sure all he needs is a chance Mr. and Mrs. Akabane. He’s a quiet child, so he won’t cause you problems and despite being 6 years old, he’s capable of being self-sufficient! That will work well with your jobs, yes?” Ms. Hana was saying to the two as she lead them towards him.

He stopped writing in his notebook in favour of turning to face the two. There was something off about this, but he didn’t know what. Maybe it was the fact that 2 people actually seemed interested in him. They stared down at him with hard cold gazes that Ms. Hana seemed indifferent to – or maybe she just didn’t notice that the couple was looking at him like he was their next meal.

“Odd colouring.” The man pointed out gruffly like he was merely pointing out the colouring of a bird’s plumage. He didn’t once look at the child in front of him. Not willing to break the one sided eye contact with the man, Karma answered him.

“It’s a birth defect.” He said evenly, even if it was a bit petulant. “Simply a recessive trait, or so they told me.”

The man seemed surprised that he was even speaking, let alone about how the demon-child was addressing him. “And prideful too.” He sneered. The woman rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Well at least he has spirit dear.” She soothed in a monotone. The man – Mr. Akabane – didn’t make another comment about it. Instead he nodded and started grumbling under his breath. The woman calmly turned to Ms. Hana. We’ll take him. Where do we sign the paper work? We want him home with us today. I assure you, we have the connections to make it happen, so don’t worry about legal issues.”

Ms. Hana looked shocked, but she recovered quickly and walked briskly over to a filing cabinet. He’d been there so long that she was all too eager to see him go to a family. This was the first couple who’d done more than look at him in disgust, so she didn’t want to pass up the chance. It might be her only chance at finding Karma a family before he aged out of her orphanage.

“Right here Just sign at the bottom and other marked areas while I get his documents.” She said, handing the couple a pile of stapled papers. Then she turned to him. “Karma-chan, why don’t you go pack your belongings so that you can leave with this nice couple here. You’ll be staying with them from now on.”

He didn’t really understand why he felt sick about doing that, but he followed Ms. Hana’s directions anyways. There was no point in being rebellious. It wasn’t like he was enjoying the orphanage either.

He didn’t have much to pack. A single sketchbook, his schoolwork and a notepad, a couple changes of clothes and a key chain that he wasn’t supposed to have. (He’d made a copy f the orphanage key and stuck it on a key ring along with the little orphanage logo charm that the old women who worked there made. He snuck out every now and then and he still hadn’t learned to pick locks. Stealing and filing key blanks was much easier.)

His number of possessions had grown only slightly after coming to the orphanage. Him both aggressively ditching his past and starting school contributing to this change. He didn’t mind too much that he didn’t have all that much. He knew that he had a problem with keeping attachments – the fact that he was the only kid who had held onto the handmade charm – and that made ditching his past hard. But maybe now it was okay. He was officially starting a new part of his life.

He could let his experiences start to build him.

A priest had dropped him off and the orphanage 7 months ago (why was no longer important, the information has been deleted) and now he was being adopted.

He returned to the main room to see that the couple was waiting for him almost impatiently. Ms. Hana was holding a small folder in her arms awkwardly to the side. She knelt down in front of him and waved the folder in front of his face. “Alright Karma-chan, the papers in this file are very important. It holds your passport and new birth certificate as well as your file here. Keep it safe.” She instructed.

Now Karma wasn’t all that familiar with the legal system, but he was pretty sure that there are some things that were wrong with that. A. he had changed his name and the ‘new’ birth certificate implies that something illegal might have been involved. B. he’s pretty sure that he needed a last name for both the birth certificate as well as the passport, and he was wiling to bet that the name she’d chosen was Akabane because of how shifty she was looking. C. was she even supposed to give _him_ the papers? D. there was no way that adoption was this easy or fast, and government connections?

Okay, so something was up with this whole situation. Had he been sold? Ms. Hana certainly looks guilty enough.

 

Mr. Akabane gripped him tightly by the shoulder before steering him out of the building and down the street with a grimace on his face, the woman not far behind. He looked up at them, now that proximity allowed it. Up close, it was easier to see discrepancies in their appearances.

The man was short and rotund; he was even sweating profusely as his eyes shifted around the empty streets. His grip on Karma’s shoulder was tight and his hands were clammy. He looked nervous. The woman was no better. Her fancy clothes had wrinkles in places and her make up was caked on. Too much blush only made her look paler. She was whipping her head around as she speed walked along with them.

They were heading down some side streets and eventually they arrived at a very beat up red truck. They ushered him in to the back and sped away. A good _45 minutes_ after they pulled out (driving like a bat out of hell), they finally arrived at one of the single most shitty houses he’s ever seen in his life.

While it wasn’t small, it looked very… well it looked far from well kept. He approached with trepidation with the hand n his back weighing heavily on his small frame. He didn’t want to go into that house because to be quite frank, he thought that it looked like a crack house. And judging by the amount of… drugs stashed in various places, it was.

The inside of the house was just as bad as the outside, arguably worse. Some rooms looked like they’d been burned pretty badly and it stank real bad. This wasn’t looking up.

He was shoved up the stars and lead into a small room with a desk, a bookshelf, and a small bed. “You’ll be staying here boy. Don’t leave the room until one of us calls you to dinner. We will explain the rules of the house then.” Mrs. Akabane said stiffly as she closed the door behind her. It may have been a bit odd (this entire situation was) so Karma decided to not cause problems. He didn’t yet know how the Akabanes would react, so it was better to play it safe.

Instead, he took this time to explore the room he’d been put in. Other than the furniture, it was bare. The bookshelf didn’t even have any books and the bed only had a blanket sheet and a singular pillow. Not the worst set up in face, it was very similar to the set up at the orphanage, so it didn’t bother him. He carefully sat down on the chair at the desk and began to pull out his belongings from his backpack. He placed his clothes on a shelf of the bookshelf (it was literally two pairs of pants and 3 shirts plus the ones that he was wearing) and then returned to his back pack, padding silently across the wooden floor.

With an almost excessive amount of care, he placed his notebooks on the desk with his pens organized in a neat row. Between every object on the table was an equal space. Everything was just so. It made him feel better; to have order. Everything has a place, everyone has a place. Some just haven’t found it yet. Karma was one of them. But he was six, so he thinks that he has an excuse.

He pulls open his sketchbook and begins to work gain as he waited for the woman to call him down for dinner.

 

 

The call came exactly 32 minutes and 45 seconds after he was shut into his room. “Child! Come down!” the woman’s shrill voice echoes through the house. He rushed down the stairs and made his way towards where the voice had come from to see that the two adults had already sat down at a table with the places already set. He took a seat at the third place setting and stared pointedly at his empty plate.

“Now before we all eat, the rules need to be discussed.” Mrs. Akabane said, clapping her hands together. “Rule number 1: you are to do well in school – you will not cause trouble and you will be in the top 5 of your class. Rule number 2: when you get home from school, you are to stay in your room until meal times in which you will prepare from now on. Rule number 3: do not speak unless spoken to. Rule number 4: you do not tell anyone else how this house operates. Rule number 5: do not talk back, it will not end well for you. Am I clear?”

Karma stared at her wide eyed. Was she serious? “Yes.” He said hesitantly.

“Yes, ma’am.” She corrected.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stared at him for a moment but then seemed to decide that his obedience was satisfactory because she then spooned a mix of half cooked shepherds pie on to his plate. He waited until both of the adults had started eating to take his own chopsticks just to be safe. He did his best to eat politely, but he ended up scarfing down the shitty food out of fear that it would be taken away.

It might have been a little unnecessary, but he didn’t know just how far these strangers would go.

And thus, he began his new life as Akabane Karma.

 

* * *

 

Over the years, Karma got used to his new routine. He woke up early enough that his adoptive guardians were still asleep and then walked himself to school ith only an apple for lunch. He did well in school – but opted out of skipping a grade because it would be too much stress for a 9 year old. He wanted to do his best to be ‘normal’ especially with his looks. If he stood out in anything other than his grades… well… he didn’t.

When he got back, he went right up to his room and did his homework and then spent an hour or two sketching. When it got closer to dinner, he’d go down and clean everything and then cook. That had been a major learning experience and had resulted in many burns but ultimately, he’d been triumphant. Now he was actually able to enjoy cooking.

He would finish the meal and bring his plate back up to his room after setting up the table for when the adoptive (he liked to think of them as merely foster parents because then there was a hope of leaving…) parents returned from work, and then remain there for the rest of the evening. It was safer that way. He wouldn’t get in trouble and Mr. Akabane wouldn’t get angry. Sometimes Mrs. Akabane would storm up to his room and just yell at him through the door about whatever he’d done to set her off. Often times it was something small, like the corner of a rug was slightly rolled.

Her voice was slurred – what Karma had learned from google at school meant she was probably drunk – and she’d call him all kinds of mean names. Names like “useless” and “freak”. One time she’d tried to say “imbecile” but she’d been so drunk she’d only been able to get “ib” out before passing out outside of his door.

She wasn’t so bad. All she did was yell at him. It was Mr. Akabane that really terrified him. Still, her words hurt all the same, and with the help of the internet (cough*Yahoo answers*cough) he discovered some coping mechanisms. At first they didn’t really work all that well – he healed too fast so it didn’t stay like he had wanted, and that of course set him on another downward spiral when he realized that he really was a freak – but he kept going and eventually it just became a habit.

When he was the only one in the house most of the time it wasn’t like getting his hand son a knife was all that difficult anyways. He liked to think it was better than trying to steal some of the drugs lying around the house.

 

* * *

 

When he got home, he immediately knew something was wrong. The house was usually very quiet when he would just home. Instead, there was an ominous heavy breathing coming from the ‘living room’. That did not bode well for Karma.

He closed the door as quietly as he could, but it still inevitably made a clicking noise that echoes through the quiet house. The heavy breathing paused. Karma held his breath too. But it was all for naught. Mr. Akabane had heard him come home.

“Get in here, boy.” His voice growled from deeper in the dark house. Despite his every instinct telling him to run to his room and barricade the door. He knew that that would only make this worse. He dropped his bag by the door so that it would both not be damaged and be readily accessible if he needed to run up the stairs. (There he would be able to climb out the window if the need arose.)

He moved at an even and quiet pace – not wanting to seem ‘eager’ by rushing but also not wanting to anger by seeming reluctant. It was abut the delicate balance.

Mr. Akabane was lounging in his ratty recliner. He had on a pair of old boxers and a heavily stained white tank top. There was numerous bottles of ooze all over the carpet, and the man was nursing a half empty bottle of whiskey. He’d spilled some of it down his front, but Karma honestly couldn’t tell if it was from this bottle or the others. He crept into the room and then stood awkwardly about 3 feet away from the man.

He stared at the child with his small beady eyes. He seemed to be puzzling over something, but then he narrowed his eyes and a dark passed over his face. “Come closer, boy.” He snarled. Karma inched forwards slowly. Once he was within arms reach, Mr. Akabane moved with a speed that Karma would not have expected from a drunk man. His arm flashed forwards like a viper and slapped the boy across the face before grabbing his collar in a death grip and pulling him closer so that his feet weren’t even touching the ground.

“Today’s ma day off, boy. So why did I wake up to a filthy house? You have one job! And that’s to keep this house spotless, you little screw up. I didn’t take you in so that you could be a freeloader. The government passed a new law so now I’m getting less money for your useless ass. No more relaxing, boy, it’s time to work.”

And then he was thrown away from the whale on the recliner and across the room and landing in a painful heap. He slowly uncurled, struggling to stand and just knowing that he was going to bruise. He’d landed on _something_ , even if it hadn’t broken on impact. Apparently his feeble struggles to rise were too slow for Mr. Akabane because out of nowhere there was a bottle sailing over his head ans smashing against the wall behind him, raining glass and alcohol down on his head.

“And clean that up.” The fat man tacked on at the end. Karma scrambled to get out of the room, rushing towards the kitchen. He needed to hurry or it would stain again and then Mr. Akabane would be even angrier. The neighbours had come knocking on the door the first time he’d been too slow in cleaning up there was still as stain in that corner, hidden by an end table.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing that Karma liked abut his prep school (other than the fact that even in 3rd grade, they offered scholarships; of which he obviously had a ‘full ride’ – the pieces of shit housing him didn’t have any money because they literally adopted a child for government money) was the field trips they had. It was a rich school so they didn’t skimp on luxury. They got to go do many cool field trips even in third grade.

This time, the trip was to an art gallery. Since it didn’t go past school hours, his shit parents were agreeable to letting him go. He was pumped as all hell to go. Even as a child he’d loved art, and the chance to go see a major art exhibit was just too much to pass up. Even if he couldn’t go where he wanted (they were to have a tour guide ughh) it was still exciting.

They were currently studying modern/local art, and since Guertena had an exhibit… well his famous works were going to be there! He was almost bouncing in his seat as the bus drove to the art gallery. He couldn’t wait to explore.

And for the most part, the day had been amazing. But then… Karma had gone to the washroom – he’d literally been gone less than 3 minutes, but somehow the gallery had managed to empty itself. He’d scoured the entire building, but no one, not even the workers, were present in the building. And when he tried the doors, they were locked and picking the lock hadn’t worked. Then the lights shut off and cursed himself for not having a watch.

So there he was, stuck in an empty ~~creepy~~ art gallery with only the uniform on his back because of fucking course his backpack was gone too. And with that, the most traumatic event of his 9th year began.

 

* * *

 

He tells Garry to call him Ib. It’s a knee jerk reflex because Mrs. Akabane had been drunk again the night before. Garry thought it was weird, but Karma had learned to respond to various names, so it wasn’t a hardship. Besides, he might be a 9 year old but he knew not to trust strangers with information about him. Even if Garry was the only other person there with him.

 

* * *

 

Everything snapped into focus again violently. He was standing in front of Guertena’s ‘Fabricated World’ alone. For a moment he thought that he was still trapped, but he could hear people talking in the other hall. He was back. Taking one last fleeting glance at the mass of colours that was Guertena’s centre piece before walking around the wall to the main area of the exhibit where his class were all milling around. Look’s like it was free time.

He slipped back into the minimal crowds and began to circulate around the room, looking at the paintings on the wall without a care. All fascination he’d had with an of Guertena’s work had vanished when he got attacked by most of them. He’d seen them all already anyways…

 

Just as he was ready to call it a quits and go hang around the teacher like a loser when something flashed out of the corner of his eye. It was shades of vibrant blue and violet. He whirled around subconsciously moving to stand in front of the one painting he didn’t remember from earlier.

When he got close enough to the painting, he finds out why it felt both so unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

The painting was large, nearly as tall as he was and equally as wide. The entire canvas was filled with vibrant colours, all centering around blue and purple. It was Garry laying down on a bed of royal blue roses, his own violet and mauve hair looking like its own exotic rose. He was wearing his trench coat, and if Karma just looked at it objectively, it would look like Garry was sleeping. But he noticed the thorns of the roses wrapping themselves around his hands that were folded on his chest, and the delicate tears dripping down his pale as death cheeks.

Karma felt tears begin to fill his eyes at the sight of the single blood red rose clutched in the frozen fingers of the friend he watched die.

Almost without noticing it, tears began to drip down his face as he stared at the painting. The tour guide sidled up to him, thankfully not commenting on the emotions he displayed. “This piece is titled ‘The Forgotten Portrait’ and it’s the only known piece to contain a realistic human. It’s one of his most melancholic pieces, and critics have argued over whether it’s authentic or not due to the difference in style and the fact that Guertena has only made one painting like this.” The guide informed him.

“Usually the youth stay away from this painting. Most dislike the overwhelming sad feeling that is brought on by the painting. What drew you to it?” the guide continues, looking away as Karma subtly wipes the tears from his face.

“I feel like I knew him.” He admits, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against the paint. “I feel like I watched this man die.”

The two stood in silence until Karma’s teacher called for him to return to the group so that they could head back to the school.

 

* * *

 

Karma is now 12, and his life has become quite complicated over the last 3 years. Gone was the passive hot head that he’d been ever since he became an Akabane, and in his place sat a much more well adjusted preteen. He was no longer a child, if you could even call what he’d been a child.

After the Fabricated World, he’d gotten his life together and _did_ something. At a mere 12 years old, he was now the leader of a well organized gang. He didn’t really understand how he’d done it, but his new sadistic streak combined with his genius intellect probably had something to do with it.

He’d built a reputation for himself, taking hit after hit, and getting the hob done. He could support himself just fine and he made that living of taking care of other people’s problems… so the real question was why he was still putting up with his shitty parents? They didn’t work and just used his government money on booze and drugs forcing him to pay for the hydro and electrical bills.

He didn’t need them for anything because he could always just get his subordinates to do it and he’d learned to fake the Akabane signature years ago. They didn’t work, and would anyone even miss scum like them?

It didn’t take him long to figure out that the answer was ‘no’.

 

He spent a grand total f 42 minutes of his homeroom class planning out the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Akabane so that he didn’t get another legal guardian. 42 minutes was a little overkill, but he’d spent like 20 minutes was a little overkill, but he’d spent like 20 picking out a new place to live because the Akabane house was a drug bust waiting to happen. He sent someone to procure the loft apartment and then headed home with a bounce in his step.

He opened the door with a loud bang, smirk twisting his already demonic features into something even more sinister. As the door slammed behind him, Mr. Akabane immediately began his yelling. “Karma you useless shit! Your mother is asleep so have some fucking respect!” the old bastard hadn’t even bothered to get off his fat ass to yell at him. This would be too easy!

He dumped his bag without a care and cracked his knuckles. Normally he’d prefer to do this with a gun or even a knife, but he didn’t want blood to get everywhere when the bank claimed the building eventually. They’d track it back to him.

He sauntered into the living room, shocking Mr. Akabane immensely. “Don’t worry asshole. She won’t be bothered by the noise for much longer.” This comment actually brought a bit of concern into the slug’s beady little eyes.

“Don’t test me boy–“ he was cut off as karma fucking _launched_ himself at the man, wrapping his thin but strong fingers around the ring of fat that Mr. Akabane called a neck. Strangling someone without the aid of a tool is harder than people would expect but this wasn’t the first time that Karma had strangled someone, and ever since he was a child, he’d possessed an unnatural strength. He has vague recollection of throwing a fit and breaking a priest’s ribs once. Man that must have been weird. He wonders how his life got so messed up that he had been in the presence of a priest, let alone attacking one!

He’d known he was a wild child, but DAMN. What even.

 

The fight that Mr. Akabane put up was pathetic on an entirely new level. He weakly slapped his sausage fingers against the ones currently cutting off his airway. But Karma wasn’t going to let go for anything. A haze of blood lust fell over his vision and he mourned the fact that he wouldn’t be able to spill the pig’s blood. Although, on the bright side, he wasn’t risking disease.

It’s a pity that there would be evidence on his body. He’d have to have someone cremate them.

 

Karma’s single minded determination combined with Mr. Akabane’s weak heart, made killing the man much easier. All the same, it still took a couple minutes. Luckily for him, Mrs. Akabane still seemed to be asleep.

It wasn’t like Mr. Akabane screamed or anything.

 

* * *

 

To her credit, Mrs. Akabane _tried_ to fight back. It didn’t work. But hey, A for effort and all that.

She was much easier to strangle, having been all skin and bones in a drastic contrast to her husband. She died with little fanfare. Karma made another quick call, and then he was heading out with a bag f his shit to move into his new fully furnished apartment.

His men could take care of the clean up.

 

* * *

 

Not even 6 months later, he got into a fight and was consequently betrayed by his teacher.

After his suspension, Karma was a full time student of Kunugikaoka’s Class 3E.

**Author's Note:**

> check out the rest of the series! I can't promise high quality but it's long so... ew nvm it's still all unedited so sorry in advance!
> 
> if anyone wants other little snapshots of this series, then by all means, please request something!


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